


Just a Bunch of Junk

by MusicalLuna



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen, Hurt Shawn Spencer, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Originally Posted on Psychfic, Shawn Whump, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-28
Updated: 2009-06-28
Packaged: 2019-03-13 08:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13567089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: One would think that one could go to the bathroom in peace in the police station, if nowhere else. One would be wrong.For Whumpathon 2009.





	Just a Bunch of Junk

**Author's Note:**

> Dragonnan gave me too many good ideas. And I like the idea of Shawn getting messed up in bathrooms. I know, I'm weird, I've accepted it. ;p  
>    
>  **Prompts:** Bathroom, drug poisoning, syringe, Shawn.

"For the love- _Spencer._ Will you _go_ already?" Lassiter snapped, head turning away from the papers he and Juliet were hunched over, scrutinizing.

Shawn, stopping abruptly in the middle of a side-to-side twist of the chair he was in, whined. His legs were crossed tightly, hands pressed over his crotch. "But Lassie-"

"Go, Shawn," Juliet ordered him, pointing a finger at the door.

"It'll take you two minutes, Shawn," Gus added. "Stop acting like a five-year-old and go before you wet yourself."

Shawn whined again, glanced at the door, and then groaned. "Fine, but if you find it before I get back I'm going to be very put out."

"GO," three voices snapped in unison.

Unwinding himself, Shawn shot to his feet, bolting out the door. He had never had to pee so bad in his entire _life._ Drinking three of those new Mountain Dew flavors hadn't been his best idea ever.

After a record flight across the bullpen, Shawn burst through the doors of the station bathroom, yanking down his fly as soon as he was through. A moment later he let out an explosive sigh of relief, his head sagging against the wall.

That had almost ended very badly.

When he had completed his business and was in a slightly less distracted state of mind, he realized with a faint twinge of embarrassment, that he was not alone. Someone was in the handicapped stall at the very end of the bathroom, muttering a quiet, but fervent rant to themselves.

Shawn quirked an eyebrow and tugged his jeans back into the proper position before moving toward the sinks.

He was in the middle of washing his hands when the lock on the handicapped stall rattled open, the door swinging out after it. Shawn's eyebrows rose at the sight of the guy.

His clothes were scruffy and a few sizes too big, a faint five o'clock shadow starting to tint the line of his jaw. Their eyes met in the mirror and his were bloodshot and watery.

A small frown crossed Shawn's mouth. What was a guy like this doing in the police station? And how exactly had he eluded arrest so far?

He had to be a witness or something.

For a second, the man swayed, a hand reaching out to steady himself on the stall dividers, his eyes raking up Shawn's figure, sizing him up.

Shawn nodded politely at him and shut off the water, reaching for a paper towel.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the opening the guy was waiting for.

Shawn grunted as a shoulder slammed into his back. He doubled over, the breath wooshing out of his lungs as his stomach met the edge of the sink counter none-too-gently. A well-placed kick to the back of his knees dropped him to the floor, chin smacking the counter on the way down and for a second he saw stars. _Ow._

The man was muttering to himself. "...can't arrest me for drugs if I don't _have_ any drugs, now can they?"

Shawn let out a strangled, breathless yelp of pain as the man's fingers wound into his hair, yanking it harshly away from his scalp.

His head jerked back, a tearing pain rippling across his scalp, and then sharply forward again.

Pain exploded like a fireworks show, colors disappearing in a flash and then the bathroom slowly leeched away into blackness.

~ * ~

Shawn came to slowly, like swimming back up from the depths of a cloudy lake.

At first he was confused, but a small portion of his mind somewhere in the back remembered having to pee _really_ bad, and then the toilet not far from his face and the gray stall door a few feet away seemed more reasonable.

It still didn't explain why he was lying slumped in the corner of the stall behind the toilet instead of sitting on it or standing over it, but it was something.

He blinked and thought about getting up, because the bathroom floor in the police station probably wasn't the most sanitary place in the world, but his limbs felt like the bones had drained out through his fingers and toes and it just wasn't worth it.

He was pretty damn comfortable right where he was.

For an indeterminate amount of time, he just lay there, listening to the muffled sound of the bustling police station outside and mentally reveling in the warm, fuzzy feeling saturating his body.

It wasn't until his stomach started roiling unpleasantly that he decided he needed to move. Comfortable or not, this was a nice shirt and he didn't think Gus' skills were enough to keep vomit from seriously messing it up.

With a great deal of effort, he pushed himself up, slinging an arm around the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl and then propped his chin on the seat, just far enough to heave up the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

The process was surprisingly pleasant for puking.

When the nausea faded, his limbs seemed to become even more gelatinous then they had been previously and he dribbled back off of the toilet, cheek pressed against the cold porcelain side.

A small part of him reflected that this nice, drowsy, fluffy cloud sort of feeling was not as good a thing as it appeared to be at present.

The rest of him didn't care.

Vaguely, he was aware of the bathroom door squealing open (there was a rusted hinge on the closer) and a rather pissed-off voice calling, "Spencer?"

He smiled to himself. Lassie.

"Spencer?" the voice barked again and footsteps moved into the bathroom.

"Shawn?" another voice called. "Is he here?"

Gus! Gus should come sit with him. He was being quiet. Gus would like that.

"I don't see him," Lassiter growled and then: "Maybe he's gone just like-" There was a half-second's pause.

"Spencer?"

Answering the call was too much effort. He blinked.

A pair of glistening black feet appeared in the gap between the door and the floor of the bathroom and Shawn watched them, curious. Further up, the door rattled. "Spencer?"

"Shawn?"

"Shut up, Guster," Lassiter said, his voice getting more difficult to hear.

"Is he there or not?" a higher, more attractive voice called. Shawn's mouth curved into a grin. Juliet. Jules would be even better than _Gus._

The door rattled again drawing his attention and he stared as a face appeared in the gap. It quickly contorted into an unpleasant expression that probably hurt his face.

"Dammit, Spencer, why didn't you answer me?"

Shawn thought he should probably answer that, but his lips felt far away and heavy and sleep was starting to sound really good.

He could answer later.

~ * ~

"He's in there?" Gus said, staring at the detective on his knees in front of the handicapped stall, bent over so that he could peer beneath the door.

"What is going _on_ guys?" Juliet demanded from just outside the door. "Is he in here or isn't he?"

"Yes, he's here," Lassiter said. He sounded...off. His movements suddenly took on an urgency that set alarm bells ringing in Gus' head.

"Shawn!" he said, raising his voice in annoyance. "What the hell are you doing? Open the door!"

"Guster, will you shut the hell up for a second?" Lassiter snapped and then grunted, pushing his head further into the stall.

Gus stared at him, listening to his hand smack at the lock on the inside of the stall as he breathed muttered curses.

A moment later the door swung open.

Lassiter grunted and got slowly to his feet, wincing and using the stall divider to help him stand.

"Seriously guys, if you don't answer me in about five seconds, I'm coming in. I don't care if it's the men's room."

Gus' mouth fell open when he spotted Shawn.

He was slumped down in the far corner of the stall behind the toilet, hair just peeking over the edge of the seat. He was sprawled and limp and the one eye Gus could see drooped, half-closed. Blood caked around his hairline, a trail of it drying along the side of his face.

Fear shot through Gus, his heart jumping, hopping and, skipping. "Shawn?"

Lassiter stepped into the stall crouching and snapping his fingers mere inches from Shawn's face.

Shawn didn't even twitch.

"Okay, enough is enough. What the _hell_ is going on?" The door banged against the wall as Juliet stormed in, but Gus didn't turn, a sinking feeling starting to seep into his stomach.

"Lassiter, what's wrong with him?" he asked, voice barely audible. The detective didn't answer, busy searching the area around Shawn, hands carefully patting down his clothes.

Juliet strode right past Gus, only halting when she could see Shawn. "Oh my god," she said and immediately started moving again, joining Lassiter in the stall. "Is he-"

Lassiter met her eyes grimly and lifted one hand. Pinched between his gloved forefinger and thumb was a narrow syringe.

Juliet clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god. Oh my god, Shawn?"

"What is that?" Gus demanded, his voice weak. But the pieces were already putting themselves together and he didn't like the image they were creating one bit.

~ * ~

Shawn wasn't answering her.

He wasn't even really looking at her.

His pupils were constricted and looked well on their way to becoming mere pinpricks, surrounded by huge green-brown irises. The way he was breathing wasn't particularly reassuring either. Each breath was far shallower and faster than it should have been. It was hard to tell if it had anything to do with the way his neck was bent against the toilet, but either way it wasn't a good sign. The blood drying on his face definitely didn't help matters. She brushed Carlton out of the way and he shuffled back, grumbling under his breath. Gus had finally gone quiet.

"Shawn, answer me if you can, okay?" she said, putting her hand to the side of his neck. His skin was like flushed, hot to the touch. "Come on, Shawn, please? Just blink."

His eyelids twitched ever so slightly but other than that he was motionless. They needed to get an ambulance. Behind them her partner was asking, "Guster, has he ever done-"

"No!" Gus cut him off vehemently, shock plain in his voice. "No, Shawn, has never done drugs, are you insane?"

"It's not always obvious-" Lassiter started gruffly, but Gus would have none of it.

" _No._ Shawn did _not_ do this to himself. There's blood on his head!"

"He could have fallen after-"

"Carlton," she directed sharply over her shoulder. "That's not important right right this second. He's overdosed. We need an ambulance, _now."_

He hesitated for a split-second and then nodded, turning away with his hand already searching his pocket for his cell phone. Her eyes flicked over to Gus who was looking at her, wide-eyed and ashy.  
  
"Overdose?"  
  
She nodded, lips tightening into a narrow line and turned back to Shawn, pressing her fingers to his neck. "He has all the symptoms. I can't really be absolutely certain, but it's probably heroin." Gus made a little strangled noise and she swallowed, counting the faint pulses of Shawn's heartbeat. He was still breathing and his heart was still beating so as long as they could get an ambulance here, soon, he could still pull through. _Would_ pull through.  
  
Carlton came back, phone snapping shut in his hand. "They'll be here in two minutes."

"Good."  
  
Shawn's lips had started to turn blue.

~ * ~

By the time the paramedics arrived, Shawn's breathing was so shallow it was almost nonexistent. Lassiter had needed to turn away at least one officer in the interim and as a result, a crowd had gathered outside the bathroom, trying to figure out what was going on. So when Shawn, strapped to a gurney, nose and mouth covered in an oxygen mask and with a large white bandage taped to his forehead came rolling out through the door, whispers rippled out across the hall.

Fortunately, the crowd was largely made up of officers, who cleared the way for the paramedics and the gurney instantaneously without prompting. Seconds later, Shawn had vanished out through the doors into the blinding light of the day.

"How the hell did this happen?" Lassiter demanded in a low voice, standing just behind Juliet's shoulder. He had obviously abandoned the idea that Shawn may have done this to himself.

Juliet shook her head as clueless as he was. "I don't know. A slip-up." Her voice was calm, though maybe a bit too calm, her fists clenched into white knuckles at her sides, betraying the intensity of the feelings that her voice concealed.

Lassiter all but growled, "Hell of a slip-up, O'Hara." He wasn't accusing her, but to someone unfamiliar with him, it probably sounded that way. Someone who didn't know that his own personal self-flagellation session was currently going on in his head.

She looked away, eyes suspiciously shiny, and nodded. Her voice was still calm, but had lowered to a near-whisper as she said, "We should go to the hospital." She cleared her throat and looked around for the one person they couldn't forget to take with them. "Gus?"

The salesman, standing a few feet in front of them with his hands dangling limply by his sides, turned back, face stricken. "Yeah?" he croaked.

Juliet moved forward, wrapping a hand around his elbow. "Come on," she said softly. "We'll give you a ride to the hospital."

~ * ~

There were people everywhere. Talking loudly and flashing bright lights in his eyes and he really couldn't breathe what was up with that? He still felt nauseous and it felt like the whole world was rocking beneath him.

He remembered Juliet.

Blinking at the people moving around him, he tried to nail one of them down long enough to get a good look at their faces. But even without getting a decent look at any of them, he knew that Jules wasn't among them. Where had she gone? And Gus? Hadn't he seen Gus? Lassie?

He was tired. Maybe if he just closed his eyes...

~ * ~

The next time he woke, he could think clearly again. And while he kind of missed the nice, warm, suspended feeling, he was way more grateful for the ability to actually look at his surroundings and register what he was seeing.

The room was taupe and white speckled with bland pink and gray colored splotches meant to look like paint strokes for whatever medically reason. Typical hospital room. A sheet and a thin but fairly warm blanket were pulled up to his chest, still almost perfectly smooth. He'd been really out of it if the blankets hadn't been dragged free of the mattress where they were tucked.

Gus was passed out near the end of the bed and he was definitely going to regret the way his head was propped on his arm when he woke up. The room was dim, but around the edges of the heavy curtain pulled over the window, the pale blue light of day was peeking through. Near the door, two familiar suited frames were talking in low voices with another figure in a white coat. His face twitched in a faint, tired smile. Lassie and Jules.

Content that he had assessed his surroundings fully, he took a second to try and figure out exactly how he'd wound up here. A lot of what he remembered was aggravatingly indistinct, but he did remember with perfect clarity the pain as his head had slammed into the bathroom counter.

What the _hell_ had that guy done to him?

He licked his lips, grimacing and his eyes fluttered back open at the soft sound of his name. He smiled. "Hey, Jules," he murmured.

Juliet moved toward the bedside, relief written all over her features. "Hey, Shawn, how are you feeling?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Head hurts a little and I feel like I could lie in bed for another few days, but not too bad."

"You gave us quite the scare back at the station," she told him wryly. Behind her, still lurking by the door, Lassiter made a face.

"I'd apologize, but I don't even know if I'm sure what happened. You wanna fill me in?" he asked.

Juliet tipped her head up slightly. "Tell me what you do remember."

Shawn sighed, but closed his eyes and thought back. "I went to the bathroom because I had _way_ too many of those new Mountain Dews. There was somebody in the handicapped stall talking to himself. When I was washing my hands, he came out. He looked kind of like he'd recently had a little pick-me-up, but-"

"You saw him?" Lassiter demanded, moving forward from the door. "Saw his face?"

Shawn's eyes opened. "Yeah, Lassie. Stared at him in the mirror for like, three whole seconds." He glanced toward Gus; still passed out. Good.

"Could you identify him?" Lassiter asked and the look on his face intensified.

Raising his eyebrows, Shawn nodded. "Yeah. Easy."

Lassiter backed off then, moving back to the far end of the room and starting to pace. Shawn's eyes flicked back to Juliet, one eyebrow quirked. She smiled wearily. "He's a little...upset about this."

"I can see that," Shawn said. "Anyway. I looked away for like, a second, and the guy slammed into me from behind. He dropped me and then slammed my head against the counter. I can't remember much after that. It's hazy."

Juliet let out a small, dark laugh. "I can imagine."

Shawn tilted his head, scrutinizing her face. "What happened?"

Her lips pulling back in a look that was more a grimace than a smile, she said, "He drugged you. The doctors found an injection site on your right shoulder. Heroin. A lot of it. You overdosed."

Shawn blinked at her. "Overdosed," he repeated. "On heroin."

She nodded and her eyes dropped to the bed. "Yes. They were worried about a contaminated needle so they tested you and it. It looks like you were lucky."

Shawn shook his head. "Wait. What? Tested me? For-" He faltered, staring blankly at her.

Juliet pushed a smile onto her face, almost hiding how much that bit of the process had obviously affected her. "99% sure. You know doctors. They never want to be absolutely positive."

Shawn swallowed, blinking a few more times. AIDS. _Jeez._

He looked up, dragged out of his thoughts when Juliet's hand wrapped around his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Next time," he said, "I'm taking a buddy."

**Author's Note:**

> This story archived at <http://www.psychfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=1655>


End file.
